of grouse and men

There are days, I'll admit, when I miss the city. Sometimes a guy just needs to drink some good coffee or browse through a used book store. Luckily, those urges come few and far between. The rest of the time I feel pretty grateful that I live as far as you can get from civilization and still be in Central Alberta.

Last night I went for a walk. In and of itself this is not unusual: I go walking most days the weather permits, and fairly often when the weather doesn't permit as well.

People who drive everywhere miss an awful lot. The luxury of motorized travel seems somewhat less pleasant when you think about what you see when you're on foot. If you keep your eyes open, at least.

Over the years that I've wandered through the pastures around the family farm I've seen and found a lot of things: countless deer and moose antlers, porcupine quills, birds nests, strange bog plants, fossils, interesting rocks. Even now our house is filled with found objects, a situation not aided by the fact that my beautiful wife shares the same affliction as me.

With the warmer weather this past week I've been able to get out and about again. So far I found a woodpecker on her nest in a tree, watched a few porcupines wander around, tried my damndest to not trample a field of crocus, listened to the meadow larks - for the most experiences I've had before, but still enjoyable nonetheless.

Last night, though, was by far the highlight.

My whole life I've listened to grouse drumming out in the bush. They sound like small engines starting up far away. I've spent years trying to see the birds at work - damned camouflage makes them pretty hard to find, and me being not what you would call 'light-of-foot" means that every small animal within a quarter-mile is well aware of my progress through the bush. The presence of the panting Labrador doesn't help too much either.

Last night victory was mine. At first I thought that maybe my eyes just weren't focusing, but one far off branch looked markedly bird-shaped. I wouldn't have stuck around if the branch hadn't twitched. And then it danced and drummed its wings. And I consider myself pretty lucky to have been there.

There seem to be a lot of people around Alberta who claim to love the natural world but aren't prepared to do a thing to help it. Either people sit around and pretend the wild isn't there or they do their best to tame it. I suspect that the majority of people wouldn't have the patience to sit around and wait for a plain grey bird to drum its wings. Either way it does little to help the wild bits that we've got left.

I feel pretty lucky to live in the middle of nowhere. I just hope it's the same nowhere left for my kids and grandkids in the future.

Regards from the brush plain.